“I’m sure it was.”
I lift him up and he wraps himself around me with surprising agility, considering his legs were supposedly malfunctioning.
I lower him into the bath and head downstairs to make us smoothies.
Smiling, I think about how Antonio stormed into my life and gave me a purpose.
He taught me how to love and be loved in return.
Unlike my family.
My father taught me what angry hands can do.
My mother taught me how silence can hurt just as much.
My sister taught me to aim for perfection.
I taught myself to manage.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my thoughts.
I pull on a T-shirt and go open the door.
Usually people in Baywood just walk in, so whoever rang the bell is either
lost, too polite, or—
Oh.
Speak of the devil.
It’s Penelope.
“Sorry to interrupt your lounging,” she says, her eyes flicking over my sweatpants and old gray shirt.
“You look sharp enough for both of us,” I reply, stepping aside.
She walks in. “I tried calling.”
“I was busy.”
My mind flashes to Antonio toweling himself upstairs. I should probably warn him that Penelope’s here.
My sister’s gaze lands on the two glasses beside the blender.
“You have company?”
I open my mouth to answer—but it’s already too late.
“I’m not company,” Antonio calls from the stairs.
We both look up.
“I’m the boyfriend.”
He’s wrapped in one of my old sweaters and absolutely nothing else. His hair is still damp, his curls a dark, beautiful chaos.
He looks unreal. So goddamn gorgeous.
